The Ghosts
by FandomChaser
Summary: Modern Day AU. The curator of a museum that used to be Camelot Castle starts to see and interact with the ghosts of first Merlin, then Arthur, Gwen, and the knights going about their daily life. Please read and review! I don't own Merlin.
1. It Had to Start Somewhere

((A.N. Ok, so some of these will be drabbles, some will be longer. I'm a history nut so most of my stories will be in some kind of historical context, but I don't know that much about the Medieval period. As we get further along in history, the chapters will get longer. I will try to update every week or as often as I can. Leave me a review so I'll be able to improve on anything. Pretty please and thanks, guys! ))

It had been a long time. Too long. Okay, it had been ten years, but it felt like it had been only yesterday when Merlin saw Arthur stabbed by the traitor Mordred. Without the help of her husband or the backing of many of the knights, Gwenevere had not been able to keep the throne of Camelot for long, and the city fell. The next king had taken over in her stead, a man called Ida. He seemed like a sensible man and would be a good king, although he wasn't particularly friendly towards magic users. He didn't seek out to eradicate magic as Uther had, but he wouldn't have a Court Sorcerer or let any Druids come into his kingdom. Perhaps it would be better for Emrys to travel on with his people for now instead of stay in a place where he wasn't wanted.


	2. The Haunting

(A.N. Wow, five followers! Thanks, guys! I'll keep trying to churn out the good stuff :) As a side note, I'm not getting emails about the stories I've followed. I know you're supposed to because I used to be on here with a different account and got them through that. Does that just happen after a while or is there something weird with my account? If you know, please tell me. Tech support hasn't gotten back to me... Anyway, enjoy!))

Three months later, the castle was still buzzing with the news of the Ghost Photo. Was it a hoax? Was it real? Everybody seemed to have their own opinion. The curator rolled his eyes throughout the whole thing, still skeptical. It couldn't be real... right? Three months to the day after the photo was first seen, he was making sure everything was in place for an exhibit for a medieval banquet exhibit in the Great Hall the next day. The tables were set with fake food, their set of silver goblets and plates were in place, and the room was draped in Camelot draperies with the legendary Pendragon crest in gold silk. Everything was perfect. He turned to leave the room and go home, but saw something out of the corner of his eye. It seemed to be the castle's resident shadow, wearing some kind of ridiculous feathered hat. As the curator watched, the shadow walked towards the high table and it became the image of the young man in the photo. A goblet that the curator had been holding slipped out of his hands, breaking the ethereal mood that had come over the hall. The spirit seemed not to hear the loud 'clang' that rang through the room, simply continuing to walk around, serving wine to invisible guests.

Several thoughts ran through the stunned curator's head. Why could he only see this servant? Who was he serving? Who was he? He seemed to be wearing a medieval tunic and trousers, so that narrowed down who he could have served under, but there were still too many kings in the Middle Ages to really be able to know. Could he have served for King Arthur? No, that was silly. Arthur and his knights were all just legends, stories to pass the cold, winter months. They couldn't have been real, could they? And why couldn't the young man pass on? After a few more seconds of serving, the young man suddenly turned towards the door, going even more pale than the semi-transparent specter had been. The curator turned to look as the doors banged open and the sound of confident footsteps walking inside past him. The curator couldn't see who was making the footsteps, but the young man near the High Table could, and he immediately put the jug he was carrying down. His eyes seemed to flash gold for a second, and the doors slammed shut again. That was it for the curator. He flung the doors open again and ran as fast as his legs could carry him out of the castle. One thing was certain in his mind: Camelot Castle was most certainly haunted.


End file.
